


Leave Me Sober (Take Me High)

by Hella_Queer



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Shotgunning, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan hates it when he drinks. Gavin loves it when he smokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Me Sober (Take Me High)

"Kiss me."

The music is loud, some techno beat that no one knows how to dance to. Everyone just bobs and sways, drinks in hand as they walk around or sit on the couches or the stairs. Some on tables and even the floor. Everything goes at a Geoff Ramsey party.

Ryan, on his fourth glass of water, looks down at the boy tucked under his arm.

"You know my rule."

The rule was that Ryan wouldn't kiss him when he drank. He hated the taste of booze on his boyfriend's mouth. Yet he kept bringing him to these frat parties. Partially because his friends ragged on him every time he declined an invitation, but mostly because Gavin was eighteen and it pissed off his parents that he was dating a twenty-one year old college guy.

Gavin scowls, downing the rest of his beer in the familiar plastic red cup. Familiar because this was the fifth party he's been to in two months.

Griffon wanders over with a plate of mini cupcakes, Geoff attached to her hip, smiling like he just won the lottery.

"Hey, guys. Y'all having fun?" Griffon asks.

"I'm having a great time," Gavin says, pointedly taking a cupcake with green icing. Vanilla and Vodka.

Ryan shakes his head at his choice, taking a chocolate cupcake with orange icing. It's normal, just like he hoped it would be. Geoff likes to screw him over by putting something in all the cupcakes, despite what the color chart says. Griffon must've made these.

"I still don't know what this party is for. Did Gus finally drop his math class?"

Geoff bounces on the balls of his feet, as giddy as a child on Christmas morning.

"Can I tell 'em, Griff?"

Griffon kisses his cheek, fond and affectionate and everything Gavin wants right now but Ryan won't give.

"Sure, babe."

"We're engaged, bitches!"

Cheers resonate around the large living room, the air charged with excitement and happiness and just the freedom of being loud. Ryan munches on his cupcake, and Gavin steals Geoff's beer bottle.

"Congrats," Ryan says. "I can't believe you had the guts to propose."

Geoff rubs the back of his neck, and the color on his cheeks has nothing to do with the alcohol. "Well, actually.."

It takes Gavin a few seconds, but when realization hits he laughs so hard he almost tips over.

"I can't believe you were that much of a little bitch that you couldn't even propose! You two have been together since like, the beginning of time!"

Geoff snatches back the bottle and cuffs him on the back of the head.

"Laugh all you want, you little prick. I get all the kisses I want."

Gavin lunges for Geoff and he dodges. The chase is on. People shriek and laugh as they move out of the path of destruction, except for Matt and Burnie. They target Gavin, lifting him off his feet only to run after him when he manages to wriggle his way out of their grasp. Griffon just laughs.

"You're gonna marry that guy," Ryan reminds her, watching the procession with something close to fascination.

"Yeah," she sighs. "I really am."

~*~

Somewhere in the span of time between going to the bathroom and sampling one of Burnie's delicious steaks, Ryan loses track of Gavin.

He had left him with Griffon and Esther, trusting them to keep his tipsy boyfriend out of trouble. But when he returns to the kitchen, none of them are to be seen. The glass of water he had given Gavin is half full though, which meant that he wasn't as drunk as he could have been.

Unless he had more cupcakes, which was a big possibility.

After spending about five minutes searching the lower part of the house, (no one was aloud upstairs unless it was for the bathroom) Ryan finds himself in the kitchen once again.

Ashley looks up from the silver tray in front of her and gives him a little wave.

"Hi, Ryan."

"Hey, Ash," he says, taking a pizza bagel and devouring the whole thing in two bites.

"Gavin's been looking for you," Ashley says, leaning forward on her elbows and resting her chin in her hands.

Ryan frowns. "I've searched this whole damn place for him. He couldn't have looked that hard."

Ashley shrugs. "He said to pass along a message if I see you."

Ryan knows what she's going to say. The same thing that someone always says to him when he brings Gavin to these parties. Just another round in the game that they play. One that Ryan is happy to lose.

"You owe him a dance."

~*~

The basement is dark and filled with people. Colorful strobe lights dance along the walls, illuminating sweaty faces and seeking out couples in secluded corners.

In the center of it all is Gavin.

Heavy bass flows out of the speakers, and Gavin's hips match the pace. With his eyes closed and his head tipped back, he allows the surrounding bodies to keep him up as he twists and shakes and becomes one with the music.

Ryan watches from afar, eyes tracking Gavin's movements. He dances by himself, dances with other people. Close, but not touching, never touching anyone but himself. His hands caress his shoulders, hands sliding down his chest to his hips. His fingers dip under the hem of his shirt, and that's when he looks up.

He catches Ryan's heated gaze and smiles, motions him over.

Ryan finds himself moving without even making the decision to do so. It's like Gavin has some kind of magnetic pull, and he can't resist no matter how hard he tries. Not that he tries very hard.

When he gets close enough, Gavin stands on his toes and wraps his arms around his neck. Their chests are so close together that Ryan swears he can feel Gavin's heartbeat. It's amazing.

"Come dance with me, Ry," Gavin says, breathless.

Ryan shakes his head, one large hand splayed possessively over his lower back.

"You know I'm not a good dancer. Besides," he pulls him even closer, his other hand tangling in his hair. "I'm not a fan of people ogling my boyfriend. Especially when I'm not around to do it myself."

Gavin leans into him, eyes fluttering closed as Ryan takes advantage of one of his weak spots. He always falls into some kind of trance when Ryan plays with his hair, but he tries hard to stay alert this time.

"So take me home. I can dance for you there." Gavin's lips are inches from Ryan's, and he can see how hard it is for his boyfriend not to close the distance between them.

"Home," Ryan muses, already moving them backwards toward the staircase.

Home didn't mean Gavin's house, not anymore. Home meant Ryan's apartment, where half the drawers were filled with Gavin's things. Where Gavin slept four days out of the week. The only place he wanted to be when the world became too much and he felt like jumping out of his skin. But most of all, home meant Ryan.

After they find Geoff and Griffon—Ryan gives Griffon a look for abandoning his boyfriend—they congratulate them once more before heading to the front of the house.

If Gavin's hand finds itself in Ryan's lap on the drive home, no one has to know but them.

~*~

As soon as the door closes behind them, Gavin makes a beeline for the bedroom. Ryan leans against the door, eyes closed as he tries to get a handle on his libido. Last time something like this happened, Gavin ended up with finger shaped bruises on his hips.

Instead of taking a shower (Gavin had ambushed him last time, hence the bruises) Ryan kicks off his shoes, gets rid of his jeans and collapses on the couch. He's able to enjoy a good fifteen minutes of mindless television before his attention is captured by something much more entertaining.

Gavin stands in the entrance to the living room, holding a rectangular wooden box in his hands. Ryan immediately recognizes it as his beloved cigar box, the one with velvet lining and a place for his lighter. Gavin, clad in one of Ryan's white button downs, sits next to him on the couch.

Ryan looks down into his lap. The shirt barely reaches to the tops of his thighs, and it's pretty damn obvious that the shirt is the only thing he has on.

"My eyes are up here." Gavin's voice is soft in his ear. Enticing.

"Not worried about your eyes," Ryan murmurs, not averting his gaze in the slightest.

Gavin chuckles, index finger tracing the intricate R carved into the lid of the box. "I can see that."

Ryan looks up then, smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "You gonna set me up or what?"

"You've got two hands that aren't broken."

Ryan rolls his eyes, smirk shifting a little into a tiny smile. He opens the lid and picks a cigar—the one that, according to Gavin, tastes like smoked wood—and grabs his trusty lighter.

For the first few minutes, Gavin ignores him. He sets the cigar box on the little table next to the couch and settles in to watch whatever is on. Only when Ryan hits his stride and starts blowing smoke rings does Gavin pay him any attention.

"Show off."

Ryan snorts and turns to him, eyes bright. "You love it."

"Doesn't make you any less of a show off."

Ryan cups his chin, gripping firmly as he tugs him closer.

"No?" He murmurs, before taking a long draw.

"Nope."

As soon as Ryan's lips touch his, Gavin melts; eyes fluttering closed just as the first wisps of smoke dance across his tongue. Ryan's free hand holds him still, fingers threading through his already messy hair.

Gavin loves nights like this, when he's the center of Ryan's world, wrapped up in his arms and encased in a white-gray fog. When Ryan pulls away again Gavin chases after him, warm, plush lips sliding along his jaw.

"Gav, baby," Ryan breathes. "Let me up."

"Don't leave," Gavin whines, hands twisting in Ryan's t-shirt as he presses up against his side.

"Not leavin, just taking off my boxers."

Gavin tugs on his shirt once before letting go. Ryan gets the hint and pulls his shirt over his head before lifting his hips and pulling down his boxers. He manages to get them past his knees before Gavin is on him again.

"Got a surprise for you," Gavin says, straddling his thighs.

"It can wait," Ryan says, trying to grind up against him. "Lube."

"Don't need it." Gavin takes his hand and slides it up the back of his thigh. Ryan can feel the excess lube trickling down from his already slick hole.

"Fuck," he groans, nails digging into soft flesh. "Condom?"

Gavin reaches into the little breast pocket on his (Ryan's) shirt and pulls out a condom, making the man under him laugh.

"Was that my surprise?" Ryan asks, his laugh turning into a moan when Gavin squeezes the base of his cock after putting the condom on.

"You think so little of my abilities," Gavin sighs, smirking a little as he rolls his hips. The head of Ryan's prick catches on the rim of his hole and he bites his lip, slowly sinking down on him until he's fully seated in his lap.

"And you talk too much." Ryan mouths at his exposed collarbone, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Wait wait." Gavin rises up slowly, a whine escaping his parted lips. "Wanna show you your surprise."

Ryan trails opened mouth kisses across his jaw, hands on his hips as he guides him back down.

"Better make it fast then."

Gavin quickly unbuttons his shirt, letting out the occasional moan as Ryan moves him up and down on his cock. Ryan shifts under him, and the new angle causes him to brush against a spot inside of Gavin that makes him see stars.

"So, where's my surprise?" Ryan asks, seemingly not affected in the slightest. Only the flush rising from his chest and the tight grip of his fingers give him away.

"Trying to show you," Gavin giggles, and it's simultaneously the cutest and sexist thing Ryan's ever heard. "You keep distracting me."

Ryan grinds him to a halt, literally, and Gavin has to bite down hard on his lip when that spot inside of him is hit dead on.

Gavin shrugs off the shirt and let's it fall to floor. He removes the hand on the left side of his hip and laces his fingers through Ryan's. His heart is pounding, and he can't remember the last time he's been this nervous.

It's not very big, about the size of a quarter, but it stands out against his tan skin. It takes a while for Ryan to understand just what he's seeing, disbelieve laced with arousal causing his brain to process information a lot slower than normal.

The fancy little R tattooed on Gavin's hip is the same fancy little R carved into his cigar box.

The cigar box that had belonged to his grandfather. The one and only thing Ryan cares for most in the world, besides Gavin. The one thing he's allowed to stake a claim to...

Ryan looks up at him, then back to the tattoo, then at their hands. They just fit, like two oddly shaped puzzle pieces. 

"I'm yours," Gavin whispers, "And I don't plan on going anywhere."

"Good." Ryan's suddenly standing, grinning wolfishly when Gavin clings to his shoulders. He's still buried inside of him, and every step he takes towards the bedroom raises goosebumps on the Brit's skin.

"Because I don't plan on giving you up."

In the morning, Ryan matches his hands to every finger shaped bruise on Gavin's body. They don't get up any time soon.


End file.
